


Petnames

by Drakkonis



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: M/M, a whole lot of drabbling, have fun, it's just a bunch of fluff and a bit of arguing, some of anton's backstory, to be perfectly honest i'm not sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22099120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakkonis/pseuds/Drakkonis
Summary: A short fic about Saracen Rue and Anton Shudder testing the waters of relationships.
Relationships: Saracen Rue/Anton Shudder
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Petnames

It hurt a little more every time Anton flinched away from his touch.

They'd been together for a week, at most. Officially. Sort of officially. It was still confusing and raw and new to Saracen; and, he assumed, to Anton too. But it wasn't going to get to him.

Yeah, sure, he'd flitted around relationships before. A couple of nights here, maybe a month of fun and a half-hearted note left behind there. He wasn't one to commit to proper relationships.

But not until now. Not until he got with Anton; Anton, who flinched when they touched in bed, who wouldn't even hold his hand in public. Who kissed him so briefly he barely felt it.

Anton, who he'd give the world for, even if all he got in return was a slowly breaking heart.

But it was new. A week old. Maybe more, maybe less. It was new and there were bumps and curves and he  _ knew _ this wasn't easy for him, but it still hurt. A lot.

But it had taken a long while for him to summon the courage to speak to him about it.

"Anton, love?" Pet-names weren't common in their relationship - affection was still a little sparser than Saracen would have liked. But the second the words left his lips, Anton seemed to freeze. Their eyes met for a moment too long.

"Don't call me that."

A blink. A step back. "Sorry?"

"Don't-" Anton shook his head. Moved to the door - Saracen moved after him, touched his arm.

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't-"

Anton shook him off and left the room, leaving Saracen accompanied by the echo of the slammed door and the guilt fast pooling in his stomach.

It was hours before they spoke again. Anton wasn't in bed until late, when Saracen was already there, staring at the ceiling and waiting.

Neither spoke.

"I'm sorry." It wasn't what Saracen had wanted to say. It was nothing like the speech he'd been rehearsing for the last few days, about how he didn't think Anton loved him and how he couldn't bear for him to use him and he'd wanted him for so long and-

"No." Anton cut his thoughts off. "Don't be."

His voice was quiet. Somehow, Saracen thought it'd be inappropriate to turn the lights on.

"I... I'm not good with nicknames. Pet names." He looked away - Saracen sat up.

"Oh." Not the most eloquent of answers, but it was all he could think to say as Anton drew a breath.

"My mother... They remind me of her."

The words hung in the air. Anton, talking about his mother... It was a rare occurrence, brought up only by too much drink or too much stress. Never like this.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say - repeating those same numb, numb words.

Anton didn't respond for a minute, before murmuring, "She was the last person who I ever felt safe being... relaxed around. Affectionate around. And I know it's been not fair on you and I'm sorry, and-" A voice crack, and he cut off.

Saracen didn't have to see his face, still turned away, to know he was hiding tears.

Anton didn't cry. Saracen had never seen him cry.

Neither spoke for a moment.

"It's not fair on you And I know that. But I'm still... I don't know. I don't know why we're doing this.  _ How _ we're doing this. It's been a week and I thought it'd be easier to even touch people or see you at night and be happy, because you're you, and I love you."

Was Anton drunk? He didn't say that he loved him unless he was.

"But I'm sorry." And, after a shaky breath, "I'm sorry that I can't love you in the way you want me to."

"Oh," said Saracen.

"You say honey, sweetheart, love, whatever, and I hear her. And I know comparing you to my mother is not only vaguely incestuous sounding, but also extremely odd, but I can't get over it."

"She died when you were young. I don't blame you."

Anton didn't seem to hear him. "But I'm hiding behind that and it's more than that, it's seeing the faces of other people when I look at you and kissing you and tasting them and feeling you pushing me over and it's seeing everyone I've loved and I've hated and you're my world and the world is a terrifying and cold place."

Saracen swallowed. 

"And I sometimes wonder if it's a world that I want to live in. I'm not able to do this, Saracen. You know that when I'm scared, the gist comes out. And I don't want to hurt you."

"You're scared of me?"

"I'm scared of what I see when I look at you."

"I didn't think you were scared of anything."

Finally,  _ finally _ , Anton looked at him. Even in the dim room, Saracen could see bloodshot, puffy eyes. "I'm scared of far more than you know."

Silence, for a long few minutes. Saracen could feel Anton studying him, before he finally murmured, "So you don't want to be together."

"No." It was a faster reply than Saracen had expected - the most even, calm word that had been spoken all night.

"No, I don't want to."

"Oh," said Saracen.

Anton didn't look at him as he stood from the end of the bed, walked out. This time, the door shut gently.

Maybe, just maybe, this was Saracen's punishment for all of those years of leading people on. To see his best friend break at the mere thought of loving him more than he could.

He wasn't ready. Saracen was far, far too ready. Ready, prepared by the one night stands and the laughs and effects of too much drinking. By the tiredness that came with solitude and the desperation for something that could be stable. Could be there forever. The only stability he'd known was the war, but the war was over, and he didn't know what he was to do with himself.

Maybe he'd find someone else. Rush into another relationship, have it end in three months with his phone number already on the bedside table of someone else. Maybe he'd find love somewhere else. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

It was that night that Saracen found himself thinking about almost whenever he lay in that bed, stared at that ceiling, went over his words with Anton again and again. Adding their more recent conversations, finding himself sickened when Anton found another boyfriend.

Years went by. Years and years of "love," of "honey," of "sweetpea" and "sugar."

More conversations were added. Anton's breakup. Anton's  _ everything. _

_ Anton _ .

And it was that night that Saracen found himself thinking about as he rubbed his lover's back, years, decades later. As Anton murmured a, "Goodnight, love," the lights flickering off.

As the two fell asleep, woke up in each other's arms.

It was bittersweet, in a way.


End file.
